Surrender the Child
by The Phantom
Summary: "What would you ask of me? My firstborn son?" A smile curved His twisted lips. "Exactly." A dark tale about a dark and stormy night and one terrible contract... signed in blood.


Disclaimer: I own none of the characters within. 

Author's Notes: A short and kind of twisted story that features no spoken names until the end. The characters 'he' and 'He' are different, so 'He' will always be capitalized to prevent confusion. The ending will not make sense to you unless you have read the books. Please enjoy. 

Surrender the Child

It was a dark and stormy night. 

Perhaps that is not the best way to begin a story, but in this case it is true. The night was dark, obviously, else it would be day, and indeed it was terribly stormy outside. So, then, the line 'it was a dark and stormy night' is certainly justified. 

For this tale is all about darkness and storms, the darkness in the hearts of men and the storms in their souls. The lightning flashes are their moments of brilliance, while the thunder is their stupidity and foolishness only moments after. And the rain… the rain is the constant downpour of greed in the mind of man, for man is only able to desire things that he does not have. 

The rain of greed had long been falling, and its' flooding and swelling was leading up to a climactic tidal wave of death and destruction, the dam having been released by the one man who had created it. 

The man who stood at the window shuddered, for he knew his hour of doom was coming on apace, and he was helpless to stop it. 

Long had this day been coming. Ten long years he had fought against the tide, struggling against the terror that rushed towards him and sinking ever deeper into the quicksand of despair. Still, in all his valiant efforts, time had not slowed and the hour had now come for him to pay his price. 

It had all started with his own greed. 

The early years of his life had been filled with poverty. He had labored to survive every day, dragging in meager supplies of food every week and desperately trying to keep his little siblings alive. As they had died one by one of hunger while he watched in agony, he had made a vow to himself that his own family, his own children, would never come to that horrible state which is starvation. 

So the journey up the ladder had begun. A ladder? A mountainside. A sheer cliff that at times even doubled back so that he was climbing upside down, holding on to only his stubbornness and the vow of his youth. Tirelessly he fought, but all for nothing. A man of lower class was doomed to remain so in this wretched day and age. 

Slammed up against the wall of hopelessness, he had continued his noble but worthless efforts, but like an animal in a corner he succeeded in getting nowhere. 

And then, He came. 

He appeared as if from a dream, eyes full of compassion and voice full of sympathy. Gently He had questioned the man in need, nodding His head and scratching His chin. He had asked if the poor man intended to start a family, if he had a wife yet, and how he planned on rearing his children if his financial state was non-existent. 

Sobbing, the man had confessed everything; how he longed to have a family of his own, how he knew a girl and loved her, and how he had no money to marry her, let alone buy a house or raise children. And still He had nodded calmly and spoke soothing words. When at last they parted, He pressed a small pouch into the man's hands and left him standing there in silence. 

The pouch had been full of gold coins. 

Constantly He visited the man, and always he brought money and promise of opportunities. When the man married, he had bought a house and found himself a respectable position in his city, earning a steady keep. The pay was not enough to support the expensive house, but He the grand benefactor stepped in and fronted the bill. The house stayed. 

Years passed in this way. The pretty young wife became older, the man became richer, until at last he was standing on his own money and she was well with child. 

It was on this night that He came.

All appearances of kindness had gone. He appeared in their house like vulture, the hands that had once offered a life were now curved into fists of death. 

"I have come for my recompense." 

The man laughed nervously. 

"Of course, of course, we now have plenty of money with which to pay you back…"

"I care not for money."

"Horses, then?"

"Nor for horses."

The man was now confused, and more than a bit desperate. 

"Jewels? Would you like jewels?"

"Jewels do not pay for what I have given you. I have created a life for you. I have given you life. And as such I should be paid with life."

Forcing a light tone to his voice, the man attempted to joke with this foreboding presence in his home. 

"Well, what would you have of me? My firstborn son?"

A smile curved His twisted lips. 

"Exactly."

The wife screamed, her hands flying to her face as if in attempts to ward away the evil that suddenly filled the room and smothered down the man's throat, making his voice weak and tremulous. 

"Surely you jest."

"I never jest, I assure you."

"But… the request is insane…!"

By now, He had lost His temper and stood blazing with fury. 

"I have given Life! I demand that I be paid with Life! Did I not craft this existence for you? Was it not my generous sponsorship that led you to a victorious and prosperous dwelling and position? You have your wife! Your fortune! Your spacious home! Your stables and horses and servants! I will take what is lawfully mine!"

The words had an awesome power behind them, a driving force that made the wife fall to her knees, hands clasped and eyes looking ever heavenward while her lips moved fervently. The man himself moved his parched lips. 

"This is madness…!"

"It is the law."

"But… my child…!"

A dry chuckle escaped His lips, and he moved quickly to salvage the bargain from his earlier fury. 

"You do not think I wish to take the child as my own? Of course not. I am not a cruel man. I wish to tutor the child. From his tenth to his twentieth year, I request that he be in my charge and under my absolute tutelage. Surely that is not too much to ask? It would be like… sending him away to a place of learning. That is all I request of you, good man and gentle woman."

Ten years. Ten years of learning… surely that was not a crime. Still the man had his doubts and his stubbornness. 

"What if I should refuse?"

"If you refuse… I take back what is mine. I gave you a life, and I could easily destroy it. I gave you a fortune that can be taken away. I gave you a house that can be burned down. I gave you a wife… that can be killed."

The whispered words of the kneeling woman became louder and more adamant. The man bit his lip so hard it bled. And still He loomed in their doorway like a specter. 

"I shall… agree with you… and he shall be yours from his tenth to twentieth year. There. I have said it."

"But you must swear it."

Here, He produced a parchment. Written upon it was their wretched bargain. It needed only to be signed and made valid. And He also produced a pen, already dripping with a sickly red ink that the man dare not contemplate for too long. 

He signed it, his signature flashing onto the parchment like sheet lightning. 

And then He was gone, and would remain absent for ten years. 

The wife threw herself down and wept. 

The child was born to them a son. And they raised him in his early days, watching as he spoke his first words, took his first steps, and always their eyes would meet and the mother would look away, ashamed of what her husband had done. 

Ashamed. 

A crack of thunder brought the man back to the present, his chest heaving as he realized he'd been holding his breath. Had it been ten years already? Was now the unspeakable night that he had spent his whole life running from? Was tonight the hour of his damnation? 

His eyes drifted over to the corner. There the wife sat, no longer young and no longer beautiful. Her face was lined with sorrow, and her eyes were dulled with the pain that only a grieving mother can know. 

At her feet knelt the boy, his sad eyes focused right back at the man, those sad eyes he had possessed since the day of his birth, as though knowing the curse he had been born into. 

The storm continued to rage outside. 

And then the door crashed open and He stood there, the same smug smile on His face. But He too had changed; no longer did he look anything like the kind benefactor of old. The charade was over. Now he reeked of anger and evil and hatred, and his eyes glinted with the hard shine of malice. 

He extended the parchment and displayed the contract of those years ago. 

"The child is mine." 

"I won't give him to you."

"The contract is binding."

"I can't do it…! I… can't…!"

"I can still destroy you. I would not hesitate to do it. And you signed in blood."

The man looked around desperately. Blood. The most binding of all inks, the most restricting of all signatures. No escape. No turning back. 

"Go to him, my son."

The child lingered at his mother's feet, terror filling those sad eyes. 

"Come to me, boy. Come… come…"

That old scratchy voice of His became a throbbing hum, the hypnotic effect winding around the child's head until at last he drifted to His side. With a hand like iron He gripped the boy's thin shoulder, His leering smile making contact at the father. 

"He is mine now. For ten years he will be under my command, under my tutelage. In the tender years of his life my words shall fill his mind and my law shall become his. He shall learn all that I wish to teach him, and he shall be trained in unspeakable arts and hideous secrets. When he returns, he will no longer be your son. He will be a man, and he will be mine."

The mother wailed, throwing her face in her hands to weep. The malicious eyes turned on her, and He spoke again. 

"You shall be a barren woman! No more children will you have with this worthless man, for he has broken the sacred trust of a father to protect his child."

Then His eyes leveled on the man. 

"Your foolishness serves you well. Your child will shake the foundations of the earth and move the souls of kings, while you rot in your miserable guilt. Take care, my friend; I hope your wealth and your home may bring you comfort in your lonely dying days. As for the boy, I wipe his identity clean. From henceforth he shall be a mask, and I shall name him, a name that you will not know. Guess it if you will; he will never recognize you again." 

Finally the boy spoke. 

"I hate you, father."

So in the agony of the moment, He took His prize away with Him, and the man only listened with a dull ear at the clatter of horse hooves on the pavement. Like a puppet cut from his strings, he fell to his knees and drifted there in silence. 

The wife screamed her sorrows into the fortress of the arms wrapped around her head. 

The child was gone. 

It was a dark and stormy night. 

And at last, Galmod wept. 

~ End 


End file.
